Category: rock and roll is dead

Guitar Shop Blues

Sep 10th, 2025

Part 5 of Rock and Roll is Dead

Matty turned off the news report from the Riverside Dome and sat looking at the line of guitars on the wall. This was like a teenage dream come true. First week at the guitar shop. He had already sold a couple since starting on Monday. He pulled down an acoustic Fender and started picking a soft, sweet melody. Eve came up the steps from the basement.

“That’s a pretty tune.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he muttered, looking slightly embarrassed.

She laughed. “How come you aren’t at the Riverside Dome tonight? I hear Bring Your Ghost to the Fire are playing?”

“Oh, Eve, mate. A guy was in this afternoon, claiming to be Hubie’s guitar tech. I used to fucking love that band. The first album was like a slice of life-saving, street-level, tough rock and roll with a big heart.”

“Oh, I know, I loved that. It’s weird. It’s an album you could fire up at a party, or on your own at 3 a.m., and it still hits.”

Matty looked up from the guitar. “You serious? You love that album?”

She looked at him, a little surprised. “I knew you were one of the fucking good ones.” She laughed, and he started playing the opening riff to “Howl on the Lonesome Road.”

“Holy fuck,” she smiled and started singing the first verse:

‘Has been, used to be, doesn’t make a difference,
We’re here in this moment, and by God, you got to live it.’

They both joined in on the pre-chorus, Matty reaching for the note:
‘Hey now, can you hear it?
The sound of the universe,
The sound of whatever’s left,
To lift us up.’

Eve smiled. “That was the best.”
Matty was nodding his head. “How did they go from that to ‘Boogie Pants’?”

She sang:
‘She got the boogie, Boogie pants, Boogie woogie,
Boogalicious,
Boogie woogie bluesy.’

They both started laughing.
“Yeah, that’s a bit shit,” said Eve, as Matty played the riff from “Boogie Pants.

“Hey, we could go sing at that open mic,” offered Eve.
“Yeah, definitely. I know it’s kind of like they stopped trying. Maybe the record company had too much of a say. You know they like a more commercial sound.”

“Yeah, here’s to punk, do it yourself.””

(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
Long Walk Home

Sep 10th, 2025

Part 4 of Rock and Roll is Dead

Across town, that same noise sounded like a hammer to his head
as Hubie got back to his dressing room.

He picked up the open bottle of champagne and took a swig.
The door behind him opened. “Thirty minutes to the meet and
greet.”

Hubie threw the bottle at the door. It smashed on the wall with
a crash. “Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off!” he screamed.
“Tell the others to do the fucking meet and greet.”

He opened a bottle of vodka and took a swig. He thought of
the ladies in the front row. Jesus. Could be fun. But he already
had his own high priestess of pain and sex. He checked his phone.
He thought of the smell of her perfume, her leather, her kiss. She
would be here soon. He pined for her, for the oblivion she brought.

He looked at the itinerary. A thirty-date swing through Europe.
Like a funeral march. Then he could bury this band. He would
be free of this business. They have been fucking over rock and
roll since the beginning. Anywhere you got art, talent, fire, you
got some arsehole who thought it was his job to represent… himself,
mostly. Well, fuck ‘em all.

He thought back to the early days, when they were hungry,
confident. The rush of playing and recording music, meeting
people. The connection at the shows. Even before all this,
music has been everything. Up in his room. Learning old songs,
discovering the classics. Writing his first songs.

It was simple then. He didn’t have much. But he had the music.
He looked at all the crap in his dressing room: like a police
report already written out, it was just missing the handgun. His
ears rang, but he could still hear music and voices from the
hallway.

He felt like breaking the TV but couldn’t muster the energy. He
looked at Terry’s smug card on the table, it was on everything,
all over town. Bring Your Ghost to the Fire, presented by Terry
Anders.

Whose fucking band is this?

He felt his anger rise but didn’t move. He just had to stay alive.
So many ways to lose yourself, and he was barely hanging on.
He picked up the acoustic guitar and it took all his effort to
strum a loose A minor chord.

‘One day, some way, we’re going to rise up…..sing my song’
He sighed.
‘My song… My song’
Fuck off Terry.

There was a knock at the door.

“Go away.”

“It’s me,” came a voice from the other side.
It was her. She didn’t wait; she opened the door and walked in
wearing black boots, her hair high tumbling down. She crossed
the room with confidence, slipping off her coat revealing a tight
leather dress.
“Did you miss me, bitch?” she smiled, and they kissed. She
held his face close.

“I brought you a present,” and she put a few pills in his hands,
which he quickly swallowed.

‘Good boy,’ she smiled as she took off his shirt.

Hubie forgot about the fans, the music. He forgot about the
guitars, just another part of the business

(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
Last Dance

Aug 31st, 2025

Part 4 of Rock and Roll is Dead

Across the bar, Ami was flicking through her notebook of songs and lyrics, glancing at the empty glass and empty seat opposite her.

They would have to play fucking Idlewild at the end of a breakup. Fuck it. It was done.

Call me a fucking bitch. Prick. He’ll be away home to tell his maw all about it. Either that or he’ll be back for an acting award.

She pushed her specs back up her nose and swallowed hard. How the fuck are people together for forty years? she wondered. What the fuck do they talk about?

I mean, come on, dating a dentist? Plenty of money, but the chat? Christ. Putting my guitars away. Fuck off. The cheek of it.

Ah well, fuck him. What’s done is done.

She had lost some security maybe but now she had her freedom. Fair trade.

She browsed her phone; there was the listing. Wednesday night. The open mic would be on down the road. It had been a while, but she had a new song that she was aching to let out into the world.

She looked over to the bar and saw Lauren holding court. She wondered about all the Idlewild songs tonight; it seemed unusual for this bar. Normally it’s all new songs and rock and roll.

She got up and walked to the door. She heard the two lads arguing about Led Zeppelin and online, but she kept walking out into the cold Glasgow night.

She walked along the pavements as the streetlights lit up, and she could hear the thud of bass from the Riverside Dome.

(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
Bring Your Ghost to the Fire

Aug 29th, 2025

Part 3 of Rock and Roll is Dead

“It felt like they wanted to end music with that one—brass, choirs, the whole cathedral job. It kind of did.”

Deak laughed. “You take this so seriously, mate. It’s just music. It’s practically free. Hell, brother, the streaming services own music now.”

“Ach, that just shows you. It isn’t dead. If people want to sell it, it must be worth something.”

“It’s just nostalgia, mate.”

“Ah, mate, that’s an old trap. It’s the moment. It’s the here and now. Somewhere in this town, someone is sitting with a notebook and a guitar, and they’ve got to get something off their chest, something they can’t just say. They’re going to bleed it onto the page. They’re going to shout it into the darkness and, for a moment, even feel the pulse of the universe, feel alive.”

“Shit, brother, I think you just need to have some fucking sex. Go pick up a nice girl.”

“Ha, fuck off, pal. I had a hot time last night with your maw.”

“That’s interesting. She’s been dead for ten years, and we scattered her ashes on some thorn bushes.”

They both burst out laughing.

Even Bring Your Ghost to the Fire couldn’t keep it going, Frankie thought. First album was a classic, but I don’t like their recent stuff. But it sells.

When did Hubie stop giving a shit and write “Boogie Pants”?

There was a burst of static, and Lauren’s voice came over the speakers. “Here’s a song for first kisses.”

The unmistakable sound of Idlewild blasted out across the bar.

They both looked over to the bar, and Lauren gave them a thumbs-up and a smile.

They both grinned back.

“I like her, she’s got the passion, eh?” said Frankie.

“Ach she’s a bit much eh and she’ll not give up that punk band name though,” laughed Frankie.

“You going to the open mic tonight?”

“Aye, maybes,” said Deak.
Rock and Roll

Aug 28th, 2025

Part 2 of Rock and Roll is Dead

Frankie leaned into the table as Deak said, ‘Rock and Roll is dead.’

“No, it’s not.”

“Aye, it is, Frankie.” Deak took a swig of his beer as he watched the barmaid walk by.
“Look at the charts. It’s all pop princesses and dance hits.”

Frankie snorted. “That’s pish, Deak, and you know it is. Rock and roll has waxed and waned. It survived the eighties, for fuck’s sake, when all the guys had bigger hair than the lassies.”

“Ha, they made a lot of money in the 80s. Flew on their own private jets. Coke parties. Any woman or man they ever wanted,” grinned Deak, warming to the subject.

Frankie moved his beer to the side, his arms getting more animated. “Well, maybe, but so fucking what? It’s music, mate. It’s alive now in the clubs, online,” replied Frankie, his hands open on the table.

“Ooh, online. Were Led Zeppelin online, eh?” laughed Deak.

“Ah, fuck off. Different generation. There are still bands out there, and there are still bands coming up. Bands sell out the Riverside Dome. But the best music I’ve seen has to be in a small club, with sweaty walls, drums so loud the crowd shaking the floor.”

Deak looked up at the ceiling. “You ever just want to put on some music and just peace the fuck out?”

“Aye, course, but a beat, drums, guitars, bass, and a vocalist that can reach right into your soul and just light it up.”

“You sound like you’re off your head. I blame the internet.”

“The internet? Aye, maybe, but you might find a song or band that just changes everything.”
“Changes everything? I just want something playing in the background.”

Frankie rolled his eyes. “In the background? That’s the difference between us, pal. I still love ‘Howl on the Lonesome Road’ by Bring Your Ghost to the Fire. Some songs just stick with you.”
Lauren stopped by the table with a tray of empties. “Here you two, nae falling out tonight. I cannae take any more drama between you two, not after the last time. I’ll be honest with you, I’m tired of your pish. So keep it sweet eh?”

“Aye, sorry about that, hen,” they both mumbled as Frankie’s face turned a little red.
She laughed. “Alright, boys, chill.”
“Here, Lauren,” offered up Deak, “what was the name of that band you used to play in?”
“Howd do yous know about that. That was a long time ago.”

“Alright, greatest rock and roll band of all time?”
She barely hesitated. “Easy. Oasis. Biggest band of the last thirty years. Real Rock and Roll.”
The boys looked at each other. “Oasis…” laughed Frankie.

“What… how… what? Did I say something wrong?” Lauren looked puzzled.

“Were they no’ just a rip-off of The Beatles and Status Quo… plus those haircuts?” laughed Deak.
Lauren playfully swiped him with her cloth. “I happen to quite like those haircuts! Were you at Manchester? Edinburgh? You don’t see many bands doing that these days.”

“Oh aye, here we go,” laughed Deak.

“Here, you two are snobs. See the number of artists and singers that saw Oasis and were inspired to pick up a guitar or take a chance. Plus, you go to one of their shows and everyone is having a good time.”

Frankie interjected, “First two albums were classics, but after that… nae chance.”
“Ha, maybe. I was always into Idlewild anyway. Had my first kiss with a boy to ‘Actually It’s Darkness’.”

“Funny that, so did I,” laughed Deak.

“Anyway you two, go listen to Oasis, Sam Fender, Biffy Clyro, Traquair and the Tranquilizers.”

Someone called her from the bar. “Later, losers, no ripping Morning Glory in my bar again,” she smiled, and she was gone.

Frankie and Deak looked at each other and laughed. Frankie said, “It’s all opinions, eh? That’s what makes the world go round.”

Suddenly, the volume of the music went up, and the unmistakable sound of “All Around the World” by Oasis started up.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Deak.

They looked over at the bar and saw Lauren looking over, her face turning red as she laughed so hard.

“Fuck’s sake.”

Frankie went to the bar for another couple of drinks.

“Tell her to turn it up!” laughed Deak.
The song blasts out across the bar before Frankie returns to the table.

(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon

Category: rock and roll is dead

Guitar Shop Blues

Long Walk Home

Last Dance

Bring Your Ghost to the Fire

Rock and Roll